37. It’s not fair
CHAPTER 37
It’s not fair
One kiss to my cheek, another to my lip, and my eyes fly open. Calum stares down at me, his emotions on display. I manage a smile. My thoughts centre on him, my heart does a flip, and a colony of ants erupts in my belly.
“We will need to go to the pharmacist,” I say, ducking my head before his lips claim mine.
“Oh.” Worry dips into his eyes, and he slides his fingers into my hair. “Are you okay?”
My cheeks heat. “You came inside me,” I whisper. “I don’t want another Macey.”
Not soon. Calum laughs, and his hair spills to his forehead. “Okay,” he says. I try to sneak out of the bed, but he hugs me from behind. “We didn’t get a chance to talk yet, superstar.”
“Talk about what?” Leaning into Calum, I stare out the window. I’m not sure what time or day it is. And I don’t care. Weird. His hand settles on my belly. “What are we talking about?”
“Us?” he mutters. He lets go, and my only option is to turn. He sits straighter, folding his legs under him. His shorts hike up to reveal the scanty hairs on his thighs. He must have changed into a pair of shorts while I slept. “We need to talk about everything that has happened.”
Must we? I bite my lip, squeezing my fingers until they ache. Doesn’t the talk before the sex count? I pull the cover up to hide my nakedness. My back hits the headboard, and shivers race down my spine. Calum adjusts so he’s right in front of me. The uninterrupted silence scares me.
“Does it really matter?” I finally say. “It’s in the past.”
“We can’t fully move on, Cathie, until we tackle the past. It has held us down for too long. And you also need to understand that none of it was my fault or choice. Well, except for…”
His cheeks stain red. Looking everywhere but at me, he leans over the edge of the bed and snatches the phone from the nightstand. I have to call Dad and check in with Mace.
“Mace is fine,” Calum murmurs like a mind reader. I try to smile, and he pinches a corner of my lips until the smile appears. “Last time I checked, he was having fun with his grandpa.”
“How long ago was the last time?”
“Ten? Fifteen minutes ago?”
My hand goes over my chest, and I stare at the imprint of my legs under the cover.
“What if we call again? I want to know.”
“It’s fine,” he says and supports that with a brief kiss.
He dials Dad’s number, letting the phone ring. The silence is broken by Dad’s voice coming from the other end of the phone. “Calum? Did anything happen? Where’s Cathie?”
Calum laughs, and a smile curls my lips at the name used to save Dad’s contact.
“I’m right here, Dad. Just wanted to check in.”
Seconds later, I hear Mace’s babble. My laughter is unexpected. Fast and abrupt. I almost feel guilty for laughing, but Calum touches a thumb to my cheek. What? Is he a shaman now? How’s he so attuned with my emotions? He plants a kiss on my temple, and I subconsciously lean in for another.
“Mama wanted to say hi,” I tell Calum’s screen. More laughter and childish jargon.
“That’s him saying hi,” Dad adds. “Love you.”
“Love you too,” I say. They can’t see me, but I wave at the phone. “Bye, Daddy. Bye, Macey.”
The call ends with a click. I suck in a breath and force the sad thoughts creeping up on me to a dark place. Calum’s worried gaze lowers to my face. I brush it off with a grin. He reaches for the bedside drawer to drop his phone but changes his mind. The calm that follows soothes my soul. One minute later, he stretches his phone to me. There’s a song of his on the screen.
Grown men cry.
“The title,” I say with a laugh.
“Yeah. Some of it is real,” he tells me. My mouth shapes into an O. I hit the play button, and a soulful beat pierces the calm before the first line floats into the air. “Don’t expect too much.”
“I expect everything,” I reply. He’s a talented musician.
Calum links our fingers. His palms moisten, and I bring his hands to my face. My eyes close. I picture myself in his body, sitting in the backseat of a Yorkrinth cab with tears in my eyes while watching the love of my life with another man. On cue, my hand flattens on my chest. He had thought seeing me at the pub hurt, but it didn’t equal the pain of seeing me that day.
“Jason is not my boyfriend,” I say without opening my eyes. Jason Augustus King was the love of Amelia’s life. A godsent. Calum’s breath fans my face. Lips brush mine. Eyes open, my blues hold his captive. “You should have come in. You should have charged inside, Cal.”
“And risk another punch?”
A smile curls my lips. “For the woman you love? It’s so worth it, Mr Dissick.” I lift my hand. It hovers above his face for a heartbeat until he wraps his around my wrist. I tug on his hair. It’s not as curly anymore. But still pretty. “I don’t hate you, Calum. I could never, even when I tried. But I’m not ready, and I don’t think I will ever be ready for another relationship.”
“With me or anyone else?”
There was never going to be anyone else after him. But all I say is, “Your song is great.”
“Thanks,” he replies. Our knees touch. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in. I should have. But I was… scared? I didn’t know what to think. Why didn’t you call me? I left my number.”
“I did call you,” I say. His brows quirk. Tears gather in my eyes. My emotions tangle. “But I didn’t speak. For a long time, I was furious. I think I still am. But not as much anymore. I thought you left us, so coming to New York was an option I never considered, Mr Dissick.”
Inching closer to me like the gap isn’t tiny enough, his forehead touches mine. “I missed you every day, Superstar. I didn’t know, baby. Tessa even checked the house in Wells Spring, but you were gone without a trace.”
Because we needed a fresh start and a suitable location for our business. I listen to Calum talk about the months that followed the incident. When he mentions Dani’s role in all of it, I feel nothing. I’m tired of fighting and clinging to the grudge. His tone changes the further he talks about Dani. I tap his knee, and my baby daddy blinks twice. Labelling him a baby daddy feels like an insult, but I can’t give more than that.
“You should forgive your mum,” I tell him.
“Do you forgive me?”
“You didn’t even do anything.”
“Cathie,” he mutters. His attempt to sound scary fails.
“Okay. I forgive you.”
“Then I forgive her,” he says. A smile spreads over my lips. “Why did you cut your hair?”
“Amelia.”
“You look just as pretty, maybe even more.”
If Calum said that to butter me up, it works. Warmth takes over my chest, and I steal a kiss from him. He lifts me to his lap, and my knees bracket his waist. The cover tips to reveal my breasts, but none of us flinch or look. Blues smile at me. I smile back.
“Mace was a preemie. A premature baby,” I tell him. “That’s why I get so overprotective. They didn’t think he would make it, but here we are. My— our boy is a fighter. So strong.”
“He got it from his mama. Mama Mace is so strong I could never compare.” His eyes soften even more, and the pad of his thumbs brush the bridge of my nose, slowly dragging across my cheeks until they tease my ears. “I wish you never had to go through it alone, Superstar.”
“I didn’t.” Resting my head on his shoulder, I tighten my arms around his middle. My eyes close, and I whisper, “Dad was here. Amelia. The girls.”
“I wish I was there,” he says in a solemn voice.
“Yeah. Me too.” I trace a line between his pecs. He shivers. “But you can spend the rest of your life making it up to him. He needs his papa.”
“And his mama,” he adds. “Baby, I think you need to see a therapist. You have been through so much in such a short time, and you need to talk to someone about it. Someone who’s not me, your dad or friend. Please? For Mace’s sake. We all want what’s best for you, okay?”
“But I’m fine,” I say. His lips disappear into a thin smile. Maybe I’m overwhelmed, but it’s not as bad as they seem to think. Amelia’s death shook me. But he’s here now. I’m okay. “I don’t think there are any available therapists on such short notice, Cal. I can’t just go there.”
“Who says?”
I poke my chest with my index finger. “Me? You probably need to book months ahead.”
“You’re avoiding it.”
My lips pucker. “No, I’m not. I’m serious.”
“How about we drive around until we find one?” he offers. What was in the letter Amelia sent him? I try to speak, but he places a finger over my lips. “Please give it a shot, Superstar.”
To prove they are wrong? Yes. “If we don’t find one, we will come back home?”
He beams. “Home. Yes, baby. Home.”
“We have to pick up Mace on our way back.”
“Of course. And also get to the pharmacist.”
I blush. “Yes.”
Lowering me to the bed, he claims my lips in a soft, slow kiss. “I love you so much. This time, Cathie, I’m not going anywhere.”
“Not even for your tour?” I tease.
“Not even for that.” My brows furrow. His hand drops to circle a nipple, and I whimper. “Except you’re coming with me.”
“We’ll see,” I reply.
In an hour, we are out of the house. Hands in my pockets, I tow behind Calum, with no idea how he plans to get me a therapist this fast. He stops beside a Tesla and opens the passenger door.
I smother a laugh, and he asks, “What?”
“Nothing. Your car is pretty,” I say and slide in.
Calum enters and tucks in his seatbelt. “Not mine. I rented it. I could get one if you like this.” Feeling conscious, I focus on fixing my seatbelt. His phone buzzes on the console. He frowns and picks up, nodding a few times before the call ends. Nothing in his expression gives him away, but I notice his stance. “Do you remember Caleb? The guy who owns the studio we visited last year? That was him. I should be practising.”
“For the tour?”
“Yeah. Since I’m not with the band, I should do something. To keep in form with the boys.”
“Right.” I lean my head on the window.
Calum was joking, but I can’t help wondering if he would stay if I asked him to miss the tour. We drive around for a bit. With Calum behind the wheel in a foreign land, I expect him to ask for directions, but he doesn’t. We stop at an apartment complex, and he rounds to my side.
“What are we doing here?” I ask. One foot meets the ground, but I don’t leave the comfort of the car. They are so wrong about this. I need a break, some time to process Amelia’s death, not a faux conversation with someone who doesn’t know me that well.
“Oh.” Calum runs a hand through his hair. “There’s a therapist on one of the floors.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
He steps back. “Wild guess.”
I glance at the building and hug myself. I can do it. “You people set me up,” I mutter.
“Well…” He can’t complete his reply because it’s the truth. Faking a laugh, he says, “Sorry.”
“Was sleeping with me part of the plan?”
Hurt flickers in his gaze. “Cathie.”
I ignore his hand reaching for me and storm to the building. I don’t need a therapist, but I’ll go to prove them wrong. He keeps a safe distance, murmuring directions to me from behind.
We enter the lift together. Minutes in, and he hugs me from behind. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
My lips stay closed, but I place a hand on his. The lift dings open. We walk side by side until he stops at a door. He opens it, and his hand slips into mine, linking our fingers. There’s a desk by the window. A woman ushers us in. I sit on the couch provided for this purpose while he does the talking. A Rubik’s cube sits on the coffee table in the centre of the room.
Calum appears at my side. “She’s ready for you.”
Fear soaks my bones. Calum notices and kisses me fully on the lips. “You’ll be fine.”
Not true. They are going to say I’m not okay and take Mace away. We follow the directions given by the receptionist and walk down the empty corridor until we find a door with a name.
Calum takes a step back. “Your stop.”
“I’m going in alone?” I whisper. Of course I am. “Okay.”
But I don’t release his hand. My eyes brim with tears. Maybe I need to talk to someone. But I don’t want to. He hugs me, and I break down. His hand moves in circles on my back, and my cries subside.
“I don’t want to go,” I admit.
He flicks my hair away from my forehead, and his lips touch mine. “Just this once, okay?”
“Cal.”
“Please.”
“Okay.” My arms tighten around him. I press my ear to his chest and listen to his heart. Stepping away, I wipe my tears. “Okay.”
Calum palms my face. “I love you.”
Faking courage, I open the door and shut it quickly behind me. If not, I’ll run.
The lady seated on a single sofa uncrosses her legs. “Hey,” she says. Her smile is warm, and her skin is brown. She motions to the empty couch across from her. “Have a seat.”
I sit and place my hands on my knees. “Can you tell them I’m okay? I don’t need this.”
“You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, but why do you think they want you here?”
A sigh escapes me. “Because my best friend died,” I tell her. I open and close my palms. It’s the first time I’m saying that out loud. Maybe that’s why I resume talking. “Sometimes, I feel bad that she’s dead and I’m here. Alive. We were about the same age. Twenty. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s not.” She drops the clipboard on her lap onto the stool beside her sofa. I squint at her table at the other end of her office. There’s a nameplate on it. “My name is Ebunoluwa.”
“Catherine. But you can call me Cathie.”
“Then I guess you can call me Ebun,” she says with a laugh. I try to reciprocate it, but it’s stuck in my throat. She nods like she understands my dilemma. “How are you today, Cathie?”
“Fine, I guess.”
“You can be honest with me,” she implores. “Nothing you say will leave this room.”
“I’m just tired. Of everything,” I say. Hoisting my feet on the couch, I wrap my arms around my knees. I expect her to call me out for putting my legs on her fine seat, but she only smiles. At least I removed my sandals. We sit in silence. She’s waiting for me to say more. Fine. “Can I talk to you about Mace? Mace is my son, by the way. He’s one.”
“Yes, you can talk to me about anything.”